


You’ll Love (To Let Go)

by LowerEastSide



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Captivity, Catboy Draco, Catboys, Dark Harry Potter, Depersonalization, Down and Out Draco Malfoy, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Humiliation, M/M, Petplay, Spanking, Unhealthy Kink, uncomfortable ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29545428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LowerEastSide/pseuds/LowerEastSide
Summary: Every good home needs a pet.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 205
Collections: My Bloody Valentine 2021





	You’ll Love (To Let Go)

**Author's Note:**

> For [ My Bloody Valentine Fest 2021.](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/My_Bloody_Valentine_2021) Is this the strangest thing I’ve ever written? Maybe. I made myself uncomfortable, and that’s saying something. Thank you to [glittering_git](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittering_git/pseuds/glittering_git) for the conversation that lead up to this, and for looking it over as I went along and fretted about what the fuck I was doing; to [PhenomenalAsterisk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhenomenalAsterisk) for the swift and excellent beta read, and to [HP Darkarts](https://hpdarkarts.tumblr.com) for hosting a place for the darker side of Valentines.
> 
> CONTENT NOTES: Dubcon — like, the dubbiest of con. This is really riding the line of dubcon here, because everything Draco does is under the threat of arrest, no matter how much he physically likes it. I feel like the petplay is pretty light, considering.
> 
> Title from “Come In Alone” by - you guessed it - My Bloody Valentine. I am nothing if not too on the nose.

_Come in alone  
_ _You'll love to let go  
_ _And I'll turn you around_

***  
  


It was the noise that woke Harry up. 

By this point, he was used to a variety of sounds in Grimmauld Place. Old houses tended to settle, whether Muggle or Wizard, and enchanted objects rarely stayed still. Not to mention Kreacher, who wasn’t nearly as spry as he used to be, often went banging down the stairs. But Kreacher would rather die before he broke something in the House of Black, and this had been the distinct sound of something shattering. 

Begrudgingly, Harry dragged himself from his warm bed. The alarm would be going off soon, anyway. He had an early morning, another interminable meeting, another duty to tend to as the new Deputy Head Auror. He was sick of it already.

The gaslights ignited of their own accord, helpfully illuminating his trek through the old passageways. At least the house had finally taken a liking to him.

Here on the second floor, he could also discern a faint shuffling noise. It was too loud to be mice, but definitely soft enough that whatever was making it was trying (unsuccessfully) not to be heard. Harry tracked it with ears long ago attuned to hear the slightest sounds of someone approaching. It was coming from the small library, the one with the darkest books. The one Harry had only opened a few months ago, finally curious enough to browse through them. 

With a silence and grace learned from creeping through the Dursley’s house unseen, honed on the run from Voldemort, and perfected during Auror training, Harry drew his wand and paused outside the door. Someone or something was rifling through the books, quietly muttering to themselves. Harry took a slow, steadying breath, then burst through the door, wand outstretched, immediately locking onto the first moving form he saw.

Moonlight shone through the open window, catching on dust motes kicked into the air by the disturbed books, and illuminated the pale, startled form of Draco Malfoy.

He looked much the same as Harry remembered. Same sharp features, same skinny frame. Thinner, actually, with dark circles under his wide, silvery eyes that gleamed out from the dark corner he’d backed himself into.

The white pointed ears on top of his head, though... those were new. 

“Malfoy,” Harry said calmly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Potter,” Malfoy spat. “I can explain.” His voice had a distinctly hissy quality to it. 

“Explain why you’re trespassing? How you got through my wards? Go on, I’m all ears.” He glanced at Malfoy’s new appendages. “Looks like you are, too.”

“Shut up,” Malfoy grumbled. “I’m trying to get rid of them. There’s a book missing from our library, I thought there might be another copy here. I’m still a Black, I have my ways around the wards.”

“Blood magic,” Harry stated knowingly, and Malfoy cringed. “Pretty sure that’s against the law. How long was your probation, again?”

Malfoy curled in on himself, and Harry finally noticed the tail, long and white-furred, twitching around his ankles. “Ten years.”

“Three years to go then.”

“Are you going to turn me in?”

“I should,” Harry shrugged. “I just got promoted, you know.”

“Everyone knows, it’s all over the Prophet.” Even cornered, Malfoy was a snarky bastard. 

“So there are certain things expected of me, see.”

Malfoy ducked his head in supplication, the ears flattening. They were rather expressive, Harry noticed. Looked soft, too. “Is there anything I can do to convince you to overlook this? It’s only a book.”

“A book of Dark Magic, I’m sure.” Harry stretched his hand out. “Give me your wand.” 

Malfoy visibly deflated, his tail going limp and his ears drooping. “At least let me try to reverse this before you arrest me. It’s humiliating.” 

Harry hesitated. There was something tempting about Malfoy’s submissive posture, his handsome face framed by those pretty little ears. It wouldn’t hurt to make him squirm a bit, to make him wait before taking him in. It was late anyhow.

“I’ll deal with you tomorrow,” Harry said with a yawn. He fired a spell at the window, locking it stronger than it had been before, and pocketed Malfoy’s wand. “You can tell me what the hell you’ve done to yourself after breakfast.”

***

In daylight, Harry could see just what had woken him up. A vase lay shattered beside a low table, surrounded by books that Malfoy had knocked over in his haste. He was curled up in the corner asleep.

“Rise and shine, Malfoy.” The ears swivelled towards Harry, and one grey eye opened. Malfoy slowly stretched, very cat-like, and Harry wondered just how far the transformation went.

“Are you taking me to Azkaban?” he asked, resignation in his voice.

“Not until you give me some answers,” Harry said. “Brought you some toast and tea. Unless you’d like a saucer of milk.”

“I’m _not_ a cat, Potter,” Malfoy sniffed. “If you’re not going to arrest me, then I insist you let me go.”

“You’re in no position to insist on anything, Malfoy,” Harry said, his voice low. Malfoy froze, fear creeping into his expression. “Now,” Harry continued, more pleasantly, “drink your tea before it gets cold.”

Malfoy hesitantly took the cup he was offered. “So you’re… _not_ arresting me?”

“I’d rather not make more work for myself if I don’t have to.” _They get enough of my time_. “So tell me all about your little cat-experiment. And don’t try to lie to me, I’ll know.”

Malfoy sipped at his tea — like a person, Harry noted, no lapping involved. “I’ve been trying to become an Animagus,” he explained. “I’m stuck halfway.”

“Just wait a few days, you’ll go back. Everyone knows that.”

“Yes, well, I may have… taken a potion, as well,” Malfoy admitted.

“A potion? Something not part of the normal process?”  
  
“I wanted to choose my form.” 

“You wanted to be a cat specifically? Why? They aren’t very powerful.”

“They are elegant and independent creatures,” Malfoy said, a haughty tone creeping back into his voice. 

“And spoiled, and sneaky,” Harry pointed out. “And,” he grinned knowingly, “you didn’t want to register, did you? You had to be something small.”

“Aren’t you clever,” Malfoy snapped. “So if you aren’t taking me in, will you let me look at your books? I can’t go out in public like this.”

“You don’t go out in public, anyway. I haven’t seen you in years.” Four years, in fact — Harry could remember it clearly. The line at Gringotts, Malfoy’s spun-silver hair a beacon across the lobby, the glares and whispers of the crowd. Something in him had wanted to follow, something long buried, but Bill had called him over and that had been it. “That’s why you want to be an Animagus, isn’t it? To move around unnoticed.”

“I see why they promoted you,” Malfoy grumbled. “Will you help me or not?”

Harry watched him delicately nibble on a piece of toast. If he helped Malfoy, he’d simply disappear again, and something in Harry rebelled at that.

“I might,” he said evasively. “These are pretty dark books, I can’t just let you look through them.” 

“Then I’ll be on my way.” 

“No, you won't.” Malfoy stiffened, his tail bristling, and Harry clenched his fingers to stop himself from stroking it. “You’ll stay here until I’m sure you’re not up to anything else.”

“You can’t keep me here! I have rights!”

“Do you?” Harry stood, and Malfoy cowered. “Oh, don’t be like that, I’m not going to hurt you. There’s a spare bedroom down the hall. Let me check out your story. Then _maybe_ I’ll help you.”

***

Harry led Malfoy to the spare bedroom, complaining the whole time, and locked him in. All day at work he was distracted by thoughts of Malfoy prowling around the room, trying to escape. Maybe he would sleep for hours like a real cat.

Being Deputy Head Auror had turned out to involve a hell of a lot of paperwork. Every time a mission came up, Harry would ask Robards if he could lead it, but he was needed back at the Ministry to coordinate, or delegate, or anything else Robards wanted while he was off doing whatever political things he did.

“You’ll be in my place someday, Potter,” Robards had told him with a knowing wink. Harry had looked at Robard’s calendar, filled with dinners and speeches, and grew cold at the thought of it.

On his lunch break, he avoided Ron and went down to the records room, where he pulled everything the Ministry had on Malfoy. Ten years probation, limits on spells, limits on travel. Malfoy would be in deep shit if anyone found out he was trying to become an Animagus, and using a potion to get around the registry would break his probation and send him to prison for a while, at least. 

_If he’s willing to do this, who knows what else he’s up to._ It was Harry’s responsibility to find out, he reasoned. If he kept Malfoy around, surely he’d eventually slip and give up some more information on his nefarious activities. In the meantime, Harry would look into it himself.

Back at his desk there were five new memos waiting. Five more people who wanted a piece of his time.

***

At home, Harry opened the door to reveal Malfoy curled up on the duvet, hands tucked beneath him like paws. It was rather cute, if you ignored the fact it was Malfoy.

“Wake up,” he said, startling Malfoy. “You didn’t scratch the furniture, did you?”

“Hmph,” Malfoy huffed. “I told you I’m not a fucking cat.” He then stretched into an arch and sat back on his haunches, which Harry thought proved his own point. “Have you decided to help me?”

“No,” Harry said bluntly. Malfoy’s tail bristled. 

“So you’ll let me go?”

“Nope.” Harry sat down on a chair in the corner and propped his feet up casually. “See, I don’t think this Animagus potion is the only thing you’re up to. And I don’t trust you to give up all your secrets. So I’m investigating.”

“I’m under investigation, but I’m not under arrest?” Malfoy narrowed his eyes. “No one knows I’m here, do they.”

“Do they need to? You’re not going to try anything, are you?” Harry’s voice hardened, and Malfoy shrugged.

“You have my wand,” he pointed out. “What could I possibly do?”

“I dunno, scratch me?”

Malfoy rose from the bed and stamped his feet. “I said I’m not a cat!”

Harry moved from the chair swiftly, backing Malfoy against the bed and learning in close. “I put up with everyone else’s shit all day, Malfoy, I’m not putting up with yours, too.”

Cringing, Malfoy averted his eyes. Something in Harry sang at that. “Now,” he continued, in a kinder tone. “Do you want some dinner?”

Malfoy accepted the sandwiches Harry brought up from the kitchen, and ate one timidly. It was a good look on him, Harry decided. “Can I at least have something to read,” Malfoy asked as Harry went to lock the door again. “It’s boring in here.” Harry brought him a few light novels from the less-dark library room, and locked him in for the night.

Back in his own bedroom, he thumbed through a book of animal transformation spells while sipping his tea. Most of them required blood or other disgusting material components. Some involved sacrifices. He could hear Hermione’s voice in his head as he flipped the pages, cautioning him against the things that sometimes turned up in Grimmauld Place. He slammed the book shut; it was none of her business what he did with his spare time. Who cared if he didn’t go to pub night anymore. All he did at work was talk, talk, talk. He didn’t want to talk more afterward.

He placed the book on the side table — it had found its way there, it would find its way back to the library — and tried to sleep. After an hour of tossing and turning, he made his way back down the hall to check on Malfoy. He was sleeping again, this time under the covers like a person. His ears lay against the pillow. Cautiously, Harry reached out and petted along the edge.

It was soft.

***

“Potter. Potter!”

Groaning, Harry fumbled for his glasses. What the hell was that noise?

“ _Potter!”_

Right, Malfoy. Locked in the guest bedroom at the end of the hall. 

“You’re making a rather lot of noise for someone who should be behaving themselves,” Harry said, blearily opening the door. “What do you want?”

“I’m hungry” Malfoy pouted. His ears drooped. “When is breakfast?”

“When is…” Harry saw red. “It’s my day _off,_ Malfoy! I was going to have a lie-in!”

“You can’t just keep me here and not feed me!”

“I can do whatever I please,” Harry said dangerously. He knew he was probably over the line, but he was fucking tired. And anyway, it was just Malfoy. 

In the face of Harry’s ire, Malfoy tipped his chin up, trying to sound braver than he looked. “No, you can’t,” he said, a tremor in his voice. “Not even you can keep me here forever, Potter.”

“Oh?” Harry raised a brow, and the lights flickered. Malfoy flinched. Harry spun on his heel and slammed the door.

“Bad kitties don’t get breakfast.”

Tromping down the hall, Harry summoned Kreacher and told him to whip something up. He’d never get back to sleep now, but he was still too tired to bother cooking. He tried to not use Kreacher’s services — a combination of his own distaste and Hermione’s disapproval — but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. The elf had mellowed toward Harry lately.

After eating, he laid back down and stared up at the ceiling. Malfoy was right, Harry couldn’t keep him forever. But it was the weekend; he couldn’t be expected to investigate on his days off. On Monday he’d make some enquiries with his Aurors, ask if there had been any whispers from their sources about Malfoy being up to his old tricks. If they didn't come up with anything by Friday, then Malfoy could go on his way, ears, tail and all.

He decided to be merciful and take Malfoy some lunch. The other man ate in sullen silence, but he finished every bit of the sandwich. “So,” he asked cautiously after he’d licked his fingers clean, “what exactly is it you are ‘investigating’ about me? I’ve kept my head down.”

“Not far enough down if you're buying illegal dark potions.”

“I _made_ that potion, thank you very much.”

“Don’t sound so proud,” Harry snorted. “It left you like this.” Malfoy flushed, and his tail twitched. Harry gestured at it curiously. “Did you cut a hole in your trousers for that?”

“It hurts to have it compressed,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Pants too?” Harry reached out and stroked the tail. Malfoy went stiff.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Just wondering.”

“I…” Malfoy looked perplexed. He obviously hadn’t expected Harry to touch him. “About what?”

“If it was as soft as your ears.”

“You've never touched my ears,” Malfoy scoffed.

“Mhmm. While you were sleeping.”

Malfoy froze.

“They’re cute,” Harry continued blithely. “This, too. Does it feel nice?”

Malfoy gulped, but didn’t make a move. “Why are you doing this?” he asked shakily.

“You didn’t answer me. How does it feel?”

“Potter…” Malfoy looked away. “It feels nice, alright? But I don’t want you to do it. Stop.”

Harry continued petting the sleek fur of Malfoy’s long white tail for a few moments more, then stood and stretched. 

“If you’re good, maybe you can come down for dinner later in the week. Kreacher can cook us something tasty.”

Malfoy watched Harry leave with something like fear in his eyes.

***

Discreet enquiries with some of the Aurors, who kept an eye on activity from the usual suspects, turned up nothing of interest on Malfoy. If he was up to something, he was doing an excellent job of keeping it under wraps. 

He did discover one interesting bit of information — through gossip, not surveillance. One Auror was a Pureblood whose cousins still ran in the same circles as Narcissa Malfoy, and word around the socialite circuit was that Malfoy had snubbed his mother and the Manor and fucked off on his own for a while. Harry gathered this meant Malfoy was not only cut off from his allowance, but alone.

“Mate.” A rap came at the door, and Harry looked up to find Ron’s perplexed face. “What’s this I hear about you asking after Malfoy?” Not so discreet, then.

“Haven’t heard from him in a while,” Harry said carefully. “Just wondered what he was up to these days.”

“Still on probation and keeping his nose clean, apparently. Why the sudden interest?” Harry only shrugged. “Well, never mind that. You haven’t been around in a while, Mum was wondering if you’d like to —”

“I’m busy this weekend,” Harry said brusquely, already knowing what Ron was going to say. His face fell, but he quickly covered it with a smile and leaned against the door to Harry’s office, trying not to let on how disappointed he was. Vaguely, Harry had a sense that he should feel badly, but mostly he just felt irritated. 

“Don’t be a stranger forever. I know you’ve been working on the house, but you moved in six months ago. There can’t be that much left to do.”

The rest of his work day was both frustratingly dull and annoyingly stressful, and by the time Harry returned home he was in a foul mood. He went upstairs and threw his uniform robes on the bed; they disappeared to wherever the house kept them and a well-tailored black set appeared for him. “You know I won’t wear those,” he said to the empty room. A plain black jumper appeared instead. “Better.” He hadn’t been one to wear so much black in the past, but Grimmauld Place wasn’t fond of providing colour, and it wasn’t as if Harry were going out.

He ate the dinner Kreacher sent up for him and then made his way to the spare bedroom. Malfoy was curled up on the corner of the bed in a patch of sunlight, reminding Harry of Crookshanks. “Wake up,” he said, flicking Malfoy in the ear.

“I’m up,” Malfoy grumbled, before yawning widely. Harry took a quick look at his teeth, but they still appeared human. The sight of Malfoy’s tongue had warmth curling up the base of his spine.

“No one in the department had any information on your criminal behaviour,” Harry told him.

“That’s because there isn’t any.”

“Besides illegal potion brewing, breaking and entering, and failure to register as an Animagus? You’re right, nothing at all.” 

Malfoy sniffed. “I’m not an Animagus yet, so that last charge wouldn’t stick.” Although his words were argumentative, there was less of an edge in his voice, and he watched very carefully as Harry sat down on the bed beside him.

“You must be lonely.”

“What gives you that impression?” Malfoy asked warily.

“You haven’t seen your mum in a while, yeah? Don’t give me that look, I have my ways of finding these things out.” Harry leaned in closer. “I wonder if she’d think you’re cute like this. I wonder if she’d be disgusted.” Malfoy bit his lip. “Oh, so she wouldn't like to see her baby boy like this?”

“I’m not a baby, Potter.”

“Harry. And no, you're not. You are cute, though. Look at these.” He pinched the tip of one of Malfoy's little white ears. “So adorable, Draco. Can I call you Draco?”

Draco didn’t answer, only screwed up his eyes and tried not to react to the attention. Harry stroked the soft ear, then a soft cheek. It felt unthinkable not to kiss him, so Harry did, using his other hand to tilt his chin up. Draco went very still but didn’t fight it. Harry licked at his lips and eased his tongue along the seam until Draco opened his mouth with a whimper. “That’s it,” Harry whispered into his mouth, sharing his breath. He petted all over Draco’s arms and chest, feeling the trembling body beneath him. The lights dimmed slowly, unbidden, until they were silhouetted by the fire. 

“You don't have to worry here. You don’t have to be alone.” Harry pushed at Draco until he tilted backwards and sprawled across the bed. “That’s a good kitty.” He kissed Draco insistently, but his hands didn’t go past his waist. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry felt like a siren was going off. Had he forgotten to do something? It was late, he should sleep.

“Get some rest,” he said as he pulled away, leaving Draco staring confusedly at the ceiling.

***

All week, Harry went to work and tried to find out more information about Draco. No one had reported him missing, and no one seemed to know what he did for work or play. It was as if he’d disappeared off the face of the earth.

Every night Harry came home and brought Draco some dinner, and ended the evening by coaxing him down and kissing him. These sessions grew in intensity, until Draco was returning the kisses. It was clear by the way he held himself that he didn't _want_ to enjoy it, but Harry smugly noted the flush to his skin, and his increasingly hard to hide erection.

“Want me to take care of that?” Harry asked at last, discerning that Draco never would. He trailed his hand across Draco's thigh, before detouring over the bulge in his trousers.

“Potter!’ Draco gasped, trying to pull back but prevented by his position on the bed.

“I told you to call me Harry, now,” Harry whispered in his ear, before biting down on the tip. Draco squeaked, and pushed up into Harry’s hand. “That’s it, pretty. Give it to me.” Draco didn’t say another word, not even Harry's name, but he did pant and whimper until he was arching against Harry and coming in his pants. 

The edges of Harry's vision went dark, and he quickly pulled his own trousers and pants down to his knees. Draco tried to sit up in alarm. “Wait, Potter —” Harry shoved him backwards and held him down with one hand, while jerking himself with the other. “Stay still,” he said, harsher than he intended, and Draco’s ears flattened in submission. Harry growled at the sight, and came harder than he had in ages, all over Draco’s shirt. A few stray drops spattered his pointed chin.

The moment he caught his breath, Harry backed away, leaving Draco to simply lie there, stunned. “Clean yourself up.” As Harry fumbled his way out of the room, he saw a set of pyjamas appear on the end of the bed.

***

Saturday found Harry on the ground floor sitting room, pondering a change of paint. When the Order had used Grimmauld Place as a headquarters, they had perfunctorily cleaned up anything dark, and also turned the walls into a welcoming yellow. It was too bright for Harry, too like a child's room. Perhaps something in dark green?

A tug at his senses — someone was trying the wards. Paparazzi? No, he'd chased those off months ago with a visit to the Prophet’s offices. He smiled as he remembered how their shady reporters had scrambled to get out of his way. No one would bother him here anymore, which meant the wards were being tested from the inside.

Taking two steps at a time, Harry ascended to the second floor and flung the door of the guest bedroom open with a wave of his hand. Draco was at the window, pulling on the sash. He yelped and fell backwards.

“Tired of my hospitality already?” Harry grabbed him by the wrist and hauled him toward the bed. “You won’t find it any more pleasant out there, you know. It's nice and warm here, I feed you, I give you attention.”

“Potter — Potter, stop —” Draco twisted in his grasp, but he was too lightweight to get any traction. Harry sat on the bed and pulled him across his lap.

“I think you need to learn a lesson.” He moved Draco’s sweet little tail aside and gave him a quick slap on his left arse cheek.

“Wh- what the hell are you doing!” 

“You’re mine,” Harry hissed. Draco was shivering. “You’re mine! Say it!”

“I’m not!”

Harry brought his hand down across Draco’s arse again, harder this time, and Draco cried out in shock. “Say it!” Draco struggled in earnest now, and Harry held him down by the back of his neck, by the scruff, as if he really were a kitten. “Mine!”

He rained blows down until both Draco's arse cheeks were red and smarting and he was no longer trying to escape Harry's grasp. Rather, he was wiggling underneath his hands. “Yours, Harry,” he mewled. “Please, stop.”

“Are you sure you want me to?” Harry whispered hotly against his ear. “Seems like you’re enjoying yourself.” Sure enough, Draco was hard against his knee. “You did call me Harry, like I asked. Maybe I’ll give you a treat.”

He pushed Draco unceremoniously back to the floor, but stayed seated himself. “Take me out,” he ordered. Draco’s eyes went wide. 

“I don't — do you mean —”

“Don't make me give you another twenty.”

Hands shaking, Draco undid Harry's belt and pulled out his cock. “I’m not sure what you expect me to do.”

Harry decided to be merciful. “You can just use your hands. But shut up,” he added. “Good kitties don’t talk back.” He leaned back on his elbows and waited; sure enough, Draco started to tentatively jack him off, strokes becoming firmer as he went on. Closing his eyes, Harry laid himself across the bed and just enjoyed himself for once. As he drifted away in pleasure, he was shocked to suddenly feel a tongue pressing at the head of his cock, lapping up the precome. Without thinking, he reached down and held Draco there, pushing up against his lips. Draco's mouth opened, and Harry thrust upwards and started fucking his face, occasionally tugging at one or the other of his ears. When he came, he held both of them and didn't allow Draco to pull back until he was spent.

Sitting up, he hauled Draco in and kissed his seed-slicked lips. “Whose are you?” he asked again.

Draco’s eyes were glazed over. “Yours. I’m… I’m yours”

“Mmm.” Harry traced over Draco’s neck, the sharp bones of his clavicle. “I’ll have to get you a collar in case you escape,” he mused, running his finger along the top button of Draco’s shirt. Harry undid a few of them and saw that Draco was shivering, his pink nipples hard and tempting. Sick of denying himself the things that he wanted, Harry pulled Draco back onto the bed and stripped his shirt off, leaning down to lick one nipple, then the other. Draco whimpered, and Harry started to suck, pinching the other while Draco squirmed. “Pot— Harry,” he whined, “why are you… stop, I…”

“I don’t know why you keep protesting.” Harry bit down lightly to emphasise his point, and Draco arched up, pushing into Harry and involuntarily revealing how hard he still was. “Seems you like it a lot,” Harry laughed, then grabbed Draco through his trousers.

“Nngh!” Harry had half a mind to make Draco beg, but didn’t think he could hold out that long. His ears were flat against his head and he panted, thrusting up into Harry’s hand as he unbuttoned Draco’s trousers and got his first good look at his cock. It was bigger than he expected from such a slender creature. “Up,” he commanded; Draco lifted his hips and allowed Harry to pull off both his trousers and pants, his tail emerging and almost swiping Harry in the face. Harry took it and rubbed it against his cheek as he stroked Draco off. It didn’t take very long, although Draco looked anywhere but directly at Harry until his climax hit, when he closed his eyes.

Harry pet Draco slowly as he came down, embarrassment creeping onto his face. Eventually Draco squirmed away and crouched at the foot of the bed, shivering. He reached for his shirt, but Harry pulled it out of reach as he got up.

“Kitties don’t wear clothes,” he teased. Wandlessly, he lit a roaring blaze in the hearth. “If you’re cold, curl up by the fire.”

***

Vaguely, Harry was aware that more time had passed then he’d originally planned on keeping Draco for. It was obvious that the Animagus caper was the only really illegal thing he’d been involved in, and his motives for that weren’t dark, but pathetic. But a month had passed, and Harry had made no move to free the man locked up on his second floor. For his part, Draco had only given token protests after the spanking incident, although Harry wasn’t sure if that was out of fear or a secret need to be wanted.

But Draco’s reasons didn’t matter, only Harry’s enjoyment of him. He finally had something to look forward to after work. The house seemed even warmer when he came home, wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. Kreacher worked overtime to please the new Black resident and the master of the house, who had finally settled in completely.

After an excellent dinner (he still wasn’t letting Draco come downstairs, the window incident fresh in his mind) Harry went up with a plate. It was their routine for Harry to watch him lick the plate clean, and then get each other off. Tonight started no differently, but Harry had further plans. When Draco was finished eating, Harry pulled him over by the tail, earning a yelp but no resistance. “I have something else for you.” With a wave of his hand, a saucer of sweet cream appeared on the floor. “Go on, drink up.”

Draco didn’t look particularly thankful for the treat, but he gracefully sank to the floor and began lapping at the cream. It wasn’t the first time Harry had done this for him. He appreciated the sleek, feline attitude that Draco assumed in this position… and he also appreciated the view.

The thin collar that Harry had put on Draco sparkled as his little pink tongue darted in and out of his mouth. Watching Draco like this never failed to get Harry hard, and as soon as the cream was gone, he would pull Draco into his lap. But why should he have to wait for Draco to finish? He belonged to Harry, just like everything else in this house. 

With a hum of appreciation, Harry placed one hand on Draco’s raised arse and palmed it. Draco started, but didn’t stop drinking. “That’s a good kitty,” Harry whispered, watching as Draco’s tail stiffened, then swished gently. He eased the soft appendage aside and whispered a spell under his breath, slicking his fingers. Somehow they hadn’t done this yet, but with Draco in such an attractive position and providing such easy access, Harry couldn’t resist any longer. Using both hands now, he spread Draco’s cheeks and looked appraisingly at his hole, pink as his tongue, then slipped a finger inside.

Draco yelped and raised his head. “Potter!” he gasped, forgetting himself. Harry pulled his tail threateningly.

“No no, keep drinking little kitty, finish your cream.” Shaking, Draco put his head back down, and lapped up the rest of the cream as Harry put another finger inside him, then another. It was a tight fit, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t actually hurt Draco, not with all the lube. And he was there for Harry’s pleasure, after all.

“I’m finished,” Draco said, almost inaudibly. 

“So good for me,” Harry breathed as he fit the head of his cock into Draco’s clutching hole. “Soooo good.” He sank in slowly in one smooth thrust, groaning at how amazing it felt. Fuck, he was going to do this every night from now on.

Bottoming out, Harry paused for just a moment to appreciate being balls deep in his little plaything, before starting a rhythm of deep thrusts. Draco was choking back cries, of pain or pleasure, Harry wasn’t quite sure, but a quick glance down showed his cock hardening, bouncing against Draco’s stomach. His tail swished back and forth madly, as if he weren’t in control of it anymore. Harry bent over his back, trapping the tail between them, and fucked in even harder. The little bell on Draco’s collar rang with every thrust. That sound was going to make Harry get hard forever now, a Pavlovian response.

Draco didn’t speak, either to beg or protest, but after ten minutes of deep, incessant pounding, he finally broke and reached down to take himself in hand. Harry slapped his fingers away and squeezed the base of his dick. “Not yet,” he said through gritted teeth. He wanted to enjoy this first time as long as possible. 

Tears were leaking out of Draco’s eyes as he pushed back against Harry; from the tone of his whimpers Harry could tell they weren’t tears of pain, but of frustration. At long last, Harry let go — not out of pity, but because his own climax was racing up his spine — and Draco spilled with a long yowl. He arched his back, and Harry yanked him back by the collar as his orgasm hit full force. He held Draco’s hips still as he shuddered through it, filling Draco until come leaked out around his cock, then collapsed backwards, panting heavily. Draco’s knees gave out, and he slumped to the floor, empty bowl clattering away beside him. 

Harry was the first to recover, and he pulled Draco’s trembling body against his, picking him up and moving them to the bed. A bit of come dripped down his thighs, and Harry swiped it up with a finger and held it to his mouth. “Finish your cream.”

Eyes still closed, Draco stuck out his tongue.

***

Later, warmed by the fire and tucked under the covers, Draco blinked up at Harry. “You aren’t going to let me leave, are you?”

“Where would you go?” Harry asked. “You missed your appointment with your probation officer two weeks ago. You’re wanted, now.” _And no one would believe you_ went unspoken. Draco only looked away.

“I’m glad you came for that book,” Harry said conversationally, stroking a pointed ear. “Why didn't you just ask for it?”

“I didn’t want to see you.”

“Hated me that much, eh?” Harry laughed. 

“Not as such, no.” He tucked his face into Harry’s shoulder, hiding his face. “I don’t want to enjoy this,” he said at last, his voice muffled.

Somehow, Harry understood. “And if I tell you you don’t have a choice?”

Draco relaxed under his hand and Harry continued to pet him idly until he fell asleep. 

***

There were only so many excuses Harry could make, and the next morning he’d promised to at least have a Floo call with Ron and Hermione. It went rather well; Harry was in a lovely mood, having left Draco curled up in bed after a rough bout of morning sex. “If you need me you have to meow,” he’d told him as he went downstairs, leaving the door unlocked. A full breakfast and tea were waiting for him by the Floo.

Halfway through a not unamusing story about Hugo’s teething pains, Harry heard it echo down the stairs. A faint mew. Hermione raised a brow.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, right,” Harry said nonchalantly, sipping his tea. “I got a cat.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello over on [Tumblr!](https://lower-east-side.tumblr.com)


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